Fucked by Santa & his elf’s

The workshop at the North Pole hummed with the fading clatter of elf hammers and saws, the air crisp with pine and fresh snow. It was late, well past midnight in the eternal twilight of the pole and most elves had scampered off to their bunks, bellies full of holiday eggnog.

But Dory, a 24-year-old toymaker with freckles dusting her cheeks and curves that strained her green velvet uniform, lingered by the massive workbench. Her hands, callused from years of carving wooden trains and painting dollhouses, ached as she wiped down the tools.

Santa's workshop was her home; she'd been here since she was a kid, orphaned and taken in by the big man himself. But tonight, exhaustion mixed with a restless heat low in her belly, making her shift uncomfortably.

"Dory, still at it? The reindeer need their rest, and so do you." Santa's voice boomed from the doorway, warm and gravelly, like a hearth fire. At 50-something in appearance but timeless in spirit, Nicholas Claus filled the frame, broad-shouldered, belly rounded from centuries of cookies, his white beard trimmed neat, eyes twinkling with that knowing glint. He wasn't the jolly myth; he was real, weary from the endless rush, shoulders carrying the weight of a world's wishes.

She turned, cheeks flushing under his gaze. "Just finishing up, Santa. Can't leave the sleigh parts half-polished." Her voice was soft, laced with the fatigue of long hours, but her hazel eyes held a spark, loneliness, maybe, or the unspoken crush she'd harbored since her teens, watching him command the elves with quiet strength.

Behind him slunk in Jingle, his head elf, 28 and sharp-featured with pointed ears twitching under his red cap. Lean and wiry from scampering across rooftops, Jingle's green eyes locked on Dory with a hunger he'd hidden for months. He was no innocent sprite; years of pranks and late-night fixes had toughened him, but Dory's laugh during shifts softened him, made him dream of more than toys.

"Let us help," Jingle said, stepping closer, his voice a playful lilt edged with need. He grabbed a rag, but his free hand brushed her arm, sending a jolt through her. "You've been working too hard. Santa, tell her."

Santa chuckled, locking the workshop door with a click that echoed like a promise. The room warmed instantly, the massive stone fireplace crackling to life as if by magic, though it was just the old bellows he'd rigged.

"Jingle's right, girl. Time to unwind." He moved behind her, his massive hands settling on her shoulders, kneading the knots with surprising gentleness. Dory gasped, the touch igniting sparks down her spine. She'd fantasized about this, both of them, in the quiet magic of the pole but reality throbbed harder, her pussy clenching under her woolen skirt.

"What... what do you mean?" she whispered, but she leaned back into Santa's chest, feeling the solid wall of him, the scent of cinnamon and smoke.

Jingle dropped the rag, his fingers trailing up her thigh, pushing the skirt higher. "We mean you deserve this, Dory. All of it." His lips grazed her ear, breath hot. Santa's hands slid down, cupping her full breasts through the fabric, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked, hard and aching.

Dory's breath hitched, a moan escaping as she turned her head to capture Santa's mouth. His beard tickled her skin, the kiss deep and claiming, tongue sweeping in like he owned her secrets. Jingle knelt, yanking her skirt up and panties down in one tug, exposing her pale ass and the slick folds of her pussy, already glistening in the firelight.

"Fuck, you're soaked," Jingle growled, spreading her cheeks, his tongue diving straight for her clit. Dory bucked, the wet heat of his mouth shocking her system, lapping broad strokes, sucking her nub until it swelled, throbbing under his assault. Santa broke the kiss, stripping her top off, her pink-tipped breasts bouncing free, heavy and sensitive from the cold air.

He groaned, palming one, then the other, his mouth latching onto a nipple, sucking hard while his teeth grazed the areola. "These tits... been dreaming of them," he murmured against her skin, the vibration making her whimper.

Jingle's fingers joined his tongue, two plunging into her pussy, stretching her with rough thrusts, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind her eyes.

"Oh god, yes—finger me deeper!" Dory cried, her hands fisting Jingle's hair, grinding against his face.

The workshop spun, tools forgotten, as pleasure coiled tight. Santa switched breasts, sucking the other nipple raw, his free hand pinching the first, twisting until pain blurred into bliss. Her body trembled, pussy clenching around Jingle's digits, juices dripping down his wrist.

She came hard, thighs quaking, a gush soaking Jingle's chin. "That's it, cum for us," Santa rumbled, licking her neck, his cock pressing hard against her back, massive, like the rest of him, straining his red pants.

They didn't let her catch her breath. Jingle stood, shedding his tunic, his cock springing free, long and thick, veined like twisted candy cane, head flared and leaking.

"My turn first," he said, voice husky with need, the elf's usual mischief replaced by raw want. He bent her over the workbench, ass up, and rubbed his length along her slit, teasing before slamming in. Dory screamed, the stretch burning sweet, his girth filling her pussy to the brink.

"So tight... fuck, Dory, your cunt's gripping me like a vice," Jingle grunted, hips snapping, balls slapping her clit. Santa watched, stroking his own monster, thicker than Jingle's, uncut and heavy, pre-cum beading at the tip. He stepped to her front, feeding her his cock, the salty taste exploding on her tongue as she sucked greedily, hollowing her cheeks.

She moaned around him, the dual invasion overwhelming, Jingle pounding her from behind, Santa fucking her mouth shallow at first, then deeper, hitting her throat. "Suck it, girl. Take Santa's dick," he ordered, hands gentle in her hair despite the thrust, his eyes soft with affection amid the lust.

Jingle's pace quickened, hand spanking her ass red, the sting making her clench harder. "Gonna fill this pussy," he warned, and did, hot spurts flooding her, cock pulsing as he ground deep. He pulled out, cum leaking down her thighs, but Santa took his place immediately, flipping her onto her back on the bench.

"My turn to wreck you," Santa said, voice tender yet fierce, lifting her legs over his shoulders. His cock nudged her entrance, slick with Jingle's load, and he pushed in slow, inch by inch, her walls fluttering around his impossible thickness. Dory's eyes watered, the fullness making her feel split open, every ridge dragging against her nerves.

"It's too big... but don't stop…fuck me, Santa!" she begged, nails digging into his arms, feeling the real man beneath the myth, the veins standing out from exertion, sweat beading on his brow. He thrust deep, the bench creaking, her tits jiggling with each powerful drive.

Jingle climbed up, straddling her chest, his softening cock reviving as he rubbed it between her breasts, pinching her pink, swollen nipples. "These are mine now," he murmured, leaning down to suck one, then the other, teeth nipping while Santa railed her pussy, the wet squelch loud and obscene.

Dory's world narrowed to sensation, the throb of Santa's cock stretching her, Jingle's mouth pulling at her sensitive buds, making them swell further, aching deliciously. "More... I need more," she gasped, the fantasy blurring into desperate reality, her body craving their possession.

But they weren't done. "Call in Frost," Santa grunted between thrusts, and the door cracked, another elf, Frost, 26 and built sturdy from hauling ice blocks, slipped in, his cock already hard and huge, rivaling Santa's in length. Shy in daily life, Frost's eyes darkened with long-suppressed desire for Dory, the girl who'd shared quiet lunches with him.

"Three of us now," Jingle said, grinning wickedly. They repositioned her on the fur rug by the fire, Dory on her hands and knees, ass high. Santa claimed her pussy again, sliding in easy now, slick with cum. Jingle knelt before her, feeding her his cock, tasting of her own arousal. Frost, hesitant at first, lubed with spit and their mixed fluids, pressed against her ass.

"You sure?" Frost whispered, hand stroking her back gently, human in his care.

"Yes—fill my ass," Dory moaned, pushing back. He eased in, the double penetration making her scream, pussy and ass stuffed full, the thin wall between them letting her feel every throb. Santa and Frost found a rhythm, alternating thrusts, one in as the other pulled out, their big cocks dragging her to the edge.

Jingle fucked her mouth, shallow to let her breathe, his balls brushing her chin. "Look at you, taking us all—our dirty little worker." The fullness was insane, bodies pressing close, sweat-slick skin sliding. Santa reached around, fingers on her clit, rubbing fast.

Dory shattered, orgasm ripping through her, pussy and ass spasming, milking them. Cum from earlier squelched out, but they kept going, grunts filling the air.

Frost came first in her ass, hot jets painting her insides, pulling out to let some drip. Santa followed, flooding her pussy again, groaning her name like a prayer. Jingle finished last, pulling from her mouth to cum across her tits, white ropes mixing with their saliva on her swollen pink nipples.

They collapsed around her, bodies tangled on the rug, the fire's warmth chasing the chill. Santa kissed her forehead, Jingle nuzzled her neck, Frost traced her hip, real men, flawed and fond, in the magic of the night. "Merry Christmas, Dory," Santa murmured, voice thick with emotion.

She smiled, spent and throbbing, the fantasy alive in her veins. "Best gift ever."